The Didacts' shout
by The Hemophiliac
Summary: (SPOILER: H4 & Skyrim) Starting with the end of Halo 4, we follow The Didact's new and unexpected quest as the Dragonborn. Lydia becomes his follower, as the two work to defeat Alduin, great bane of old, as well as accomplish various quests, make decisions, and stop the awakening enemy in Solstheim. Rated M for violence, blood/gore, and mild language. @343/Bethesda
1. Prologue, enter the Storm

**Prologue**

His ascendancy was assured. The Didacts' new purpose now clear. The armored human had thwarted his efforts, yes, but that did not quash his spirits. His goal still remained. He needed more Prometheans, more warriors willing to put their renewed lives in danger in order to restore Forerunner dominance.

There was one problem: the damned being's ancilla. She had disrupted much of the Composers' power, causing a breakdown, and then a reboot. However, he could still process a small population at a time, rather than all at once... but then this '_Cortana'_ as the AI was so dearly named, had made duplicates of herself.

The Didact was close, this close to crushing the _hamanune_ warrior, when she had jumped him, infiltrated his armor's systems, and allowed for the Spartan to shove him down into the Composer's slipspace portal. He literally had the human in his grasp.

At first, he was enraged at his failure, but then quickly righted himself. He realized, he would only be transported to some desolate location, far from his enemies, but with time to think.

At first, as he fell, everything was nauseating, and vacuum shrieked through his helmet's filters. Then, there was the dull thump of hitting ground, the chilling feeling of winter's cold grasp... and faintly hearing the gravel crunching sound of approaching footsteps.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Morgan Freeman cleared his throat, sipped a bit of his tea, and smiled at the Promethean General. Standing in a black room, with lighting that illuminated only around the center where they both sat, he might as well give his attention to this human.

"Welcome to your dream. I'm sure you know, that by now, you have entered.. another world." The aged man set down his teacup onto the end table.

"What happened? I demand an answer! What is the current fate of the human race?"

"I will tell you a few things, things you're going to need to know if you want to survive within the next few hours."

"Hmph. Very well. As a foreword, before I arrived here, I was creating more warriors to assist me in my efforts to cleanse the universe of taint and peril. Now... I am asleep, I take it?"

"Correct." Freeman took his cup and sipped once more. The Didacts' mission did not seem to bother him in the slightest. He smiled before saying, "Now, I am not the one that you may have heard approaching you.. I am what remains of your damaged Ancilla. The Librarian is indeed a very cunning being, planning everything with her geas."

"I suspected my fate was of her doing. She always did want to protect me, despite all that I've done."

"Mm. Now, before I let you regain your consciousness, you must be aware: the world you are entering is not of this universe. The Composers' over reaction caused you to jump all the way to a planet I have designate as Nirn. There are humans, but also subspecies that are humanoid."

"You mean... evolved beings? Interesting... but I digress. I must get away from this system. I must revive the Forerunners. I will not be held accountable for the death of my people!"

Morgan Freeman smiled and stood up, before adding,"In time.. you'll see. For now, find your allies. Help this world. Then leave."

"But I-"

"I can smell you."

The Didact did not finish, as everything faded to black, and the sound of hooves clopping on stone grew ever the louder.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_"Each one of these souls is finite and precious. And I'm close. Close to saving them all."_  
_...my wife... why do I hold the thought that you are not dead?_

He began to stir, slowly coming to. Everything at first was a hazy grey that only allowed him to see a mere few inches. After blinking a few times, everything came in to view. The Didact was bound at his hands, sitting along one of the seats in the back of a carriage. Inhaling, he could smell the sweet scent of wild pines and lush flora.  
_So this is nurn. This would have made a nice haven for the survivors._

It wasn't until now that he realized his predicament: he was being transported in a line of two wagons, and as a prisoner. Looking over, he saw a human, fair-skinned with a full mustache that flowed down into his groomed beard. He was bound and gagged. He seemed to be wearing a tunic/robe that was a shade of ocean blue, much like the other man across from him.  
He waited for his armor to scan his memories, so that he would easily know who-

With shock, the Didact examined himself. He was not wearing his armor. He had a simple pair of stained leggings and a rough shirt that had a thin rope tied around his waist. How hard had he hit? There was no way in the Ecumene he had lost his armor to these lesser creatures. Few things ever made his blood boil, including The Librarian's temperance, and his armor being stolen.

"Hey. You! You're finally awake! Name's Ralof. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, just like us...and that thief over there."

The blonde Nord lightly jerked his head, gesturing to a bruised and dirt-covered man. The Didact wondered if the beasts even bathed.  
The thief sneered,"Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

_Thieves and vermin, all of them. What did you see in them, my love?_

The thief faced the Didact, unaware of the god-like presence before him.

"You there, you and me. We shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

Ralof smirked,"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief-"

"Shut up back there!", the Imperial guiding the cart barked.

The Didact cared not for the words being passed around, and decided to drown away his attention. He overheard, however, that the finely dressed man was named Ulfric Stormcloak, an obviously important individual. He pieced together what was to come next: A massive execution. This made the Thief even more afraid, as the group wheeled through an arched gate, into a fort of stone.

An imperial balled his fist and clapped it against his breast as he greeted what appeared to be the leader, "Hail, General Tullius!" The armored one in charge nodded and returned to his conversation with a woman who had yellow skin, and sharp features that were only accentuated by the black and gold armor she wore.

_So this might be a subspecies_, Didact mused._ I cannot pass judgment until I meet one in person. Where is my damned armor? Could they have melted it? Where can I-_

He jerked sideways as the carriage came to a stop. At least now he could stretch his legs. he felt a little stiff around his calves, due to the awkward position his slightly larger stature demanded he sit in.

"What's happening? Why are we stopping?" The thief asked, eyes darting around.

Ralof glanced over to him as he go up to exit, "What do you think? End of the line."

The Promethean huffed. Surely they could plan a means to escape, one should not accept death so quickly. There was too much to be accomplished. Hopping down onto the gravel, he walked over to the beginning of a line where each person stood up to an armored female and a man writing on a scroll stood, then proceeded to gather around a masked man with an unusually large battle axe.

_Their females act as warriors? All the better. They may be better as life workers and miners. These specimens in particular seem so wea-_

"Step toward the block when we call your name, one at a time! " The armored one yelled.

The brown haired man announced, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

The Nord walked proud while bound, getting praises from his followers as he did so.

Ralofs' face flashed sorrow, then resolve,"It has been an honor.. Jarl Ulfric."

The Imperial called off the next name. "Ralof of River wood."

Ralof nodded to The Didact, and lumbered toward the 'chopping block'.

The one in brown scribbled off another name. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

Lokir stepped toward the two, toward the way they came. "No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" He dashed off, past the captain, up the incline.

She screamed,"Halt! Archers!"

Knocking and pulling back their arrows, Lokir jerked several times and fell as the projectiles pierced him. No one screamed, and no one cheered.

The steel-clad woman growled,"Anyone else feel like running?"

_No. Were my hands to be free, I would only need to reach out and pluck your life out of existence._

"Wait. You there. Step forward."

The Forerunner tread his way forward, easily towering over them both by half-a-foot.

"Who. Are you?" The Didac could now see that his armor had stitching that read Hadvar.

He cleared his throat, finally able to speak. It sounded like a deep rumble, as if a gigantic slab of stone was slowly grinding across a canyon.

"I.. am the Didact. Servant to the Mantle, survivor of a long dead race, and the one who watched your lives grow. Time has abandoned all of you it seems, as none of you look to be aware th-"

"You from one of the strongholds, Orc? How did you end up here? Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list." Hadvar seemed to not care at all who he was.

The female shook her head. "Forget the list. He goes to the block."

_Such arrogance! I swear by the Ecumene, you will be among the first I kill!_

"By your orders, captain. Follow the captain, prisoner."

Momentarily defeated, The Didact bowed his head. "As you say."

They all gathered around as Tullius mocked Ulfric, as if to sodden his name before his honor-less death.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

This elicited a frustrated grunt from the Nord.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down to restore the peace."

Then there it was. A wail, no, a roar of some kind echoed across the sky, from the mountains. _Could it be? The prisoner from Charum Hakkor? No, not here. I may very well be the only one from my universe. Or Era for that matter._

Hadvar shifted uneasily."Did you hear that?"

Though Tullius waved him off. "Its nothing. Carry on."

The armored woman clapped her fist against her chest-plate. "Yes, General Tullius."

_Ever the lapdog, aren't you?_

As a hooded priestess was interrupted by an impatient Stormcloak, another roar echoed through the sky. Didact could feel the vibrations throughout his bones. Now Hadvar was feeling like Lokir... but he had orders. He stood at attention but said, "There it is again. Do you hear that?"

The Imperial woman, Lucretia, simply rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, so we can get on with this."

The stormcloak who refused to have his name crouched down toward the block and mocked, "My gods are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Lucretia placed her boot at the fool's back, keeping him in place. She nodded to the headsmen, and the axe was raised. It came down with the most sudden thwack. Everyone but The Promethean jumped at the sight.

Cheers and insults were thrown all around.

"You Imperial bastards!"

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

_What savagery. They do not understand what an honorable death is. All this talk of false gods, and presuming to know where their fates lie.. The Librarian would be very disappointed._

"Next, the deformed Orismer!" Lucretia pointed right at him.

_'Deformed Orismer'?_

Hadvar noticed the look of death in Didacts' eyes, and warned, "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

_Might as well_, he thought as he walked forward. _I could probably take hold of that Tullius and use him to-_

A sharp shove to the brick of wood was more than enough to stop him from thinking about freedom. He looked up towards the sky, the fattened man, a tall stone tower... and a gliding black figure. Another bone-rattling bellow. This time, everyone took notice.

Lucretia drew her sword, eyes scanning. "Sentries! What do you see?"

"Dragon!"

_Dragon? Ah yes, a mythical hamanune creature that apparently can smite their enemies with a biological flame, ice, what have you. I have heard rumors of some that use voices to pulverize their prey._

There it was. The beast, horned, scaled, and with eyes that were as red as hardlight energy. It noticed The Didact, ignoring arrows as though they were gnats, and released a shockwave of grey-blue energy that knocked the Headsman off his feet.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Everything in that one moment exploded into ataxia. The Forerunner General stumbled over, using his bound hands to keep from smashing his face.

_What- such power, I must have it! Wait, its Ralof! Perhaps he can show me the way._

Ralof was motioning for him to follow. "C'mon! The gods won't give us another chance!"

_Indeed._ "Lead the way, Ralof."

He looked back, seeing the headsman, who was lying crumpled against a rock, and various sized chunks of rock crashing into the buildings. Ulfric was within the watchtower, rubbing his sore jaw as he pulled the door shut.

"Jarl Ulfic, could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages."

_Higher beings don't enter such primitive worlds._

Ralof turned to his new companion. "We have to get out of here. Up this way, let's go!"

The three ran up the stairway, though it was difficult for Didact to keep his balance with his clawed feet.

He saw a now-freed Stormcloak trying to move stones away from the crumbled roof entrance. "I just need to move these-"

He did not progress. The obsidian-looking beast had burst its' head through the wall, and Didact could make out three distinct words that rumbled through its' throat:

_"YOL... TOOR... SHUL!_"

The result was as The Promethean expected; the man was now a charred corpse, writhing in numbing pain.

Ralof almost shoved everyone back down the steps. "Dammit! Get back!"

Seeing no other prey to hunt, it dropped and swooped back to harass what remained of Tullius' guard.

Ulfric gazed through the hole, tracking it. Ralof scanned below and pointed to a burning building.

"See that Inn right over there? It's kind of a leap, but you look like you can make it! You'll have to jump down and make your way... I'll meet up with you once I help the others! GO!"

"A means of escape? good enough for me."

Without protest, Didact leapt through the air without trouble, despite not having free arms to right himself. With a wood-splintering thud, he managed to clumsily thud onto the upper floor. He got down on the first floor, where he could see Hadvar and an old man taking cover.

The Imperial called to a boy that was cowering in front of the Dragon, whose attention was directed towards an unlucky archer.

"Torolf! Get behind the house!" Hadvar nearly dragged him over, where he saw The Didact approaching. "Still alive, prisoner? Stay behind me if you want to stay that way!"

Didact clambered forward, face to face with the Imperial.

"I will warn you only once. I am no "prisoner". You will call me by my title, Didact. Is that clear?" Hadvar's eyes widened a bit, and he quickly added his name to his mental list of who to respect. and fear.

"Of course, Didact... anyway, we need to head through here! C'mon!"

The elderly blacksmith tending to the traumatized child murmured just out of earshot, "Gods guide you, Hadvar."

They were running along a wall that lead past a burning tavern, when the ancient beast clutched onto a wall of stone, attention completely drawn to a terrified archer who was loosing all of his arrows.

"Quick, hug the wall-"

_"ZU'U UNSLAAD, ZU'U NIS OBLAAN!"(I am immortal, I CANNOT die!)_

The arrows flew straight and true, but shattered and deflected off of the impervious scales. Another orange-red waterfall of broiling flames engulfed the poor bastard, and also left an opening for Hadvar to yell, "There's our chance! Let's move!"

The Dragon dusted off, flinging small pebbles and throwing clouds of dirt in every direction. The unlikely pair noted seeing fireballs whirl towards their target, from ground-to-sky.

"I'd appreciate it if my binds were cut."

"No time!"

"Hmph. With haste, then._" I could at least use one of your crude weapons then.__  
_

The courtyard was utter mayhem. There were burned and mangled bodies strewn about, stragglers that were still struggling to understand what was happening, and the military Governor with his guard. As the two came near another gate that led to the prison chambers, Tullius called from his position, "Hadvar! Move it soldier, into the Keep!We're leaving!"

Hadvar half-saluted, "Yes, General! Didact, with me!"

"RUN YOU IDIOT!"

The Promethean realized he was standing about, admiring the destruction, seemingly calm despite all of the death around him. He had had one-hundred years of combat experience. All he needed was a moment to think, but that moment was not now. Still, he could have used such a weapon during the great war.

He had to get out of this mess, so he made his wat through the crowd to the building that held two different entrances. Hadvar caught up, an enraged expression flaring at the sight of Ralof approaching them both.

"Dammit Ralof, not this time! Out of the way!"

He drew his sword to match Ralof's axe.

"Fine, but he comes with me!"

"Argh, Didact! Make your choice, but we don't have forever!"

Without hesitation, The Didact walked towards the entrance of the Keep. where Ralof stood. He had, after all, helped him and seemed friendly despite the fact that he hadn't realized he was addressing one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy.

Ralof nodded his thanks,"Alright, lets go." He looked back towards the shy before he opened the wooden door.

The Didact entered behind him, but not before hearing the Dragon scream, _"DAR LEIN LOS DII!"(This world is mine!)_

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you all for reading this, and I really appreciate the reviews! If you're wondering why the Didact has been weakened, things may be explained in the next entry! Also, basically the Didact's form was scaled down a bit by the Composer's portal. Just for this story. This is NON-CANON.**


	2. Good Condition

**A/N: Finally, I managed to get part 2 up! Riverwood and Whiterun are coming soon :y**

**I apologize for length, but I wanted to have _something_ up for you all. Also, chapters might now be just this length, Part 1 was well typed out before I even thought of making a post on here.**

**Rate, Review, and Fave!**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

As the door shut behind them, Ralof grabbed nearby plank and jammed it in the slide. At least now, that might buy them some time from any Imperials. He glanced around, assessing their situation. The Didact nodded, holding his hands up.

"Now, would you kindly?"

Ralof approached him, pulling out a dagger. After a few moments of effort, the rope finally was cut. It fell to the floor, and the Promethean was able to stretch. Ralof took a couple of steps back, staring in awe at the unique features of his companion. He looked at the Didact's hands, which had six fingers, all of which were the same length and ended in a rounded point.

He then saw his legs, which were clawed, and shaped like hooves. He surmised that if he really had to, he could easily smash even the skull of an Orismer. Ralof then realized one more thing: his newfound ally was wearing tattered clothing, and he was also unarmed, but he aimed to fix that.

He patted the Didact on his arm, "You should take Gunjar's outfit over there. His axe too. he won't be needing them anymore." He walked over to his fallen brother's corpse, knelt next to him and uttered words of respect. Ralof took the uniform off, and handed them to the Didact.

"Here," he said, while turning around. "We have to get going."

The Didact examined the tunic. It was clearly woven fabric, made to help any and all to better resist the cold chill of Skyrim's winter weather. It also had an apparent layer of chainmail that mainly covered the stomach, collarbone, and shoulder area. He held the garb by the shoulders, and noticed the immediate problem as it unfolded itself with the aid of gravity:

_This is... small. It will have to do for now though, I suppose. I just hope I can still..._

With that last thought he traced one of his six fingers down from the top to the bottom. Ralof, now turned around, looked on in curiosity. The stormcloak cuirass began to tear itself into segments, and re-arrange into a larger fit. The chainmail links became detached from each other, and reformed into armored strands that laced the contours of the fabric that formed around his chest, shoulders, and back. It wasn't exactly armor, but it would serve as a fine under layer.

Didact picked up the axe and snorted with annoyance. "It serves to only be a dining implement. Ralof, I believe that my skills with unarmed combat and my abilities will suffice."

"If you say so. I just thought that-"

The two immediately went quiet as the stormcloak veteran heard the clanking of imperial steel. It was headed their way. Ralof crouched along the side of the gate, where Didact had tried to do the same, despite his size.

"We'll catch them by surprise, get ready.", he told him, as he silently pulled out his axes.

The two voices arguing were that of a man and woman, and it seemed the woman was the superior.

"Get this damn gate open, recruit! Of all the milk drinkers in Nirn, I have to be stuck with you while a dragon is about!"

"Ma'am, I'm trying my best here, I'm pretty sure I didn't get more than half an hour of training." Didact heard the jingling of metal keys, and clicks as the lock was unhinged.

_Mechanical locks? Perhaps the task to find my armor will not be so difficult._

"I don't give a rat's ass if you- damn it! Rebels!" With that, she unsheathed her blade, which gleamed bright with the sun's rays. The recruit panicked, and pulled out his dagger instead. A smaller blade, but still lethal nonetheless.

By the time Didact had finished assessing his opponents, Ralof was already tumbling in hand to hand with the young boy, the both of them trying to get a gold hold of his axe. the Promethean himself, by instinct, grabbed the blade, and slowly pulled her up into the air, so that she was at eye level. Her adrenaline was now replaced with fear, that much he could easily see.

Her helmet slipped off, and she asked in a quivering voice, "What in Akatosh's name are you? Orc?!" The Didact began to answer, when he was interrupted by the Imperial woman releasing her grip, and falling to the floor to run away.

The Didact was not about to let her go. As she made it about halfway through the hall, he raised his arm, fingers poised in a grip-like manner. Orange, wavy beams of energy hummed as they snaked out towards her, wrapped her up, and began to float her back to their master.

She was now trembling with fright, despite not being able to move a single limb.

With a light chuckle, the Didact told her. "It would take hours to explain to you. Unfortunately for you, you are neither family, nor are you an ally. You shall not be killed, for I require only one thing."

Without a moment's hesitation, he curled his fingers inward, which caused the Imperial steel encasing the woman to groan, brack, and finally break off of her, and again float into the air as they slowly reformed themselves into a crest, a few spinal plates, and most importantly, his desired chest plate.

She was left with nothing but her uniform shirt and panties. She cowered to the table on the far side of the room as she witnessed the components form and click onto the massive being's body. She no longer wanted to be a part of any of this.

The Didact sighed with relief, feeling the familiar weight around his shoulders. It may not have been the toughest material, but it was still armor. Satisfied he had everything he needed for the time being, he turned to assist Ralof. He saw his Stormcloak friend cleaning off his axe blade with the blood of the young Imperial, who was now chopped up beyond repair and slumped against the wall. He noticed he had a few gashes along his arm that went down to his elbow.

"You're hurt.", he said, raising his hand brushing the air above the cuts.

Ralof shrugged lamely. "It's nothing. I'll live."

"Nonsense, allow me." The Promethean focused his energy into his fingertips, which summoned a ray of light to reach out and close the cut, knitting and healing the injury instantly.

The Nord opened and his palm repeatedly, grateful for the act. "That's some damn fine magic."

"Magic? No, that was no mere spell. It was one of the many abilities I had gained from my many mutations. Enough. We must escape, that much is clear."

"Wait, what about that Imperial wench over there? She deserves death for what she willingly did!"

"No, we do not harm those that truly have no will to fight us. Leave her be, letting her live with this guilt on her mind is a proper punishment."

"I see. Come one, grab whatever you need, and let's get out of here!"

The two ran down the hall, the Didact having to watch his head as he passed through several doors and into what seemed like the keeps' basement. The two stopped short of entering into the torchlight, hearing imperials struggling to dispatch a couple of Stormcloaks.

"Troll's blood, a torture room!"

"Allow me."

* * *

**Now I know how to post a new chapter on here. **

**So I'm not going to slowly creep through every single part in Unbound, mainly because I hate how slow it is and it barely let's me flesh out my(and Bethesda's) characters.**

**Thanks for following this so far, this is awesome! Also, post in your reviews what you want to see, and what I like I'll include :v**

**Thanks so much, and see you next time!**


	3. Knowing

**A/N: Another quickie, I'm pretty happy with where this story is going. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_I cannot seem to find anything that would help me keep a fond memory of you, my love. In a world where I seem to have no recognition, my sudden goal for the reclamation of that of which I deem valuable seems to be one of a vain purpose. No. I will find a way out of here. Then, and only then, will I find you._

The fight had only lasted a few minutes. The Didact only had to walk in, and crush the Imperials under his heel without struggle. It seemed that it would require greater opponents to challenge the Promethean's might. After learning that Tullius had indeed made it out alive, they made a run for it. They were running out of time, the Dragon was nearly finished with the garrison above ground, and it wouldn't be long before it found them.

The two Stormcloaks opted to stay behind, leaving Ralof and Didact to continue on through the caves, cutting down any Imperials not wise enough to steer out of their way, and fending off hordes of giant frostbite spiders. Eventually, they came to the end of the cave, only to awaken a very disgruntled grizzly bear. The Didact stepped into the animal's path, blocked it's claws using his armored plating, and managed to get a fine grip on it's jaws.

He pulled back with both hands, resulting in a wet cracking sound as the top jaw was torn off. Ralof blinked in disbelief at such a show of strength, knowing that not even the mightiest of Nords could perform the same thing. Leaving the body behind they stepped out into the wild, the sun nearly blinding the two as their eyes readjusted.

Ralof hid behind a rock, beckoning the Didact to do the same. As they did so, a shadow flew over them, and an ear splitting-roar crashed across the clouds above. Ralof tracked his destination, using one hand to act as a shade.

"There he is.. I think he's gone for good this time. Come on, we can catch a break in Riverwood, my sister Gerdur lives there. She'll understand. You may want to get a bit more armor too."

"Lead the way. I have to agree that I don't quite feel as though I am well equipped to venture out alone."

They jogged down the hill's path, through brush and down a dirt trail. Luckily, no foes had found an opportunity to ambush the exhausted warriors, so they decided to stop by a trio of three stones. Didact was in the process of cleaning his hands with the stream, when Ralof approached him and placed a finely gutted salmon on a slab of slate at his feet.

"I have to go on a hunch and assume you haven't had much to eat. You can pay me back in mead later."

"Hmph. Actually I won't be, as all Forerunners are forbidden to eat the flesh of the unfortunate."

"What? Seriously? Alright, well maybe Gerdur will have some other goods for you. Let's head out."

"A moment, Ralof. I see standing stones over there. I wish to examine them."

The Stormcloak nodded and gestured that he would wait patiently as he began to wrap up the fish in leaves he picked.

Didact walked over to the ancient pillars, and noticed that each one had a distinct character illustrated on it. there was a man who wielded a staff that had a crystal of a sort, another who wore a cloak and sprinted with a dagger in hand. The last showed a man clad in armor, axe raised high above his head.

On instinct, he touched the one with the warrior. Immediately, he felt his whole arm vibrate, and then a newfound energy course through himself as a beam of energy shot off into the sky. The symbol lit up, his joints shown as dots, and then slowly the crisp energy faded away.

He suddenly found himself eager for more combat, wanting to fight, train, and improve. The feeling was replaced with a newfound courage to continue on towards this 'Whiterun' he had heard Ralof speak of. He turned on the heel of his foot, nodding to Ralof as he passed by. Not a few minutes down the lakeside path, had they encountered a pair of wolves that circled them, and pounced.

ralof managed to cleave the leader across the face, a bigger and huskier canine that had a few scars along it's face. It turned and fled, only one of it's packmates having survived. Ralof turned to check his ally's condition. The Promethean stood over the fallen animal, it's body limp, and it's throat crushed by his large hands.

Ralof watched the bulkier beast trot up the hill, making eye contact. He knew this wouldn't be the last he saw of it.

"That was.. exhilarating. I see a settlement ahead, could this be your Riverwood?" He pointed toward a gateway that had a guard post built around it, and a wooden barrier erected.

"Aye, that's it alright. Let me talk first, I want you to make a nice impression."

"Why? Am I that frightening?"

Ralof put his fists on his hips, an eyebrow raised. "You look like an Orc and an Elf had a child, friend. You tower over us all. I'm just glad that you chose to come with me."

"Very well. Let us be quick, time does not seem to be our ally today." With that, he marched towards the archway.

* * *

**Is there anything you feel is lacking? I do. Awe well, on with the story!**


	4. Size

**A/N: Here's chapter 5 of TD'sS! Chapter 6 is right around the corner, stay tuned :Y**

**Chapter 6**

_I often have quite an undesirable effect on the lesser beings, my wife. Can you imagine what it would have been like had we actually coexisted with the humans? Hah, you most likely would have enjoyed my misery._

"So.. he's what again?" Gerdur took her gloves off to wipe the accumulating sweat off of her forehead.

"He said he's called a- what was it... 'Forerunner'? I'm not sure what they are either to tell you the truth, sister. But he seems friendly enough, plus the fact that I was his first friend he's made."

"Did he ever say what it was that made him come to Skyrim? We just don't get folk like him."

Ralof sighed and looked over to the Didact, who was talking with the town's guard dog, who was being petted by a young boy. Taking a sip of mead, he turned back to his sister, who was stirring her stew in a pot.

"No, he hasn't exactly told me. At least, not yet. But don't worry, I'm sure he'll warm up to us. He said he has to head over to Whiterun. Didn't say why, only that he felt that it was urgent."

Gerdur gave it a taste and served the both of them. "Hmm. Well, I trust your thoughts, brother. Let us eat, and we'll help you prepare to go."

"Thanks, Gerdur."

"Of course."

Didact knelt down as politely as he could, he had no intention of scaring the boy off and making himself looking like a monster. The little Nord, Frodnar, looked up at him with curious eyes.

"Are you an Orc? My papa says I should be wary of Orc folk, mostly because he thinks they're beasts. But you look kind."

The Promethean shifted, his ankles burning from crouching in such a position for several minutes. "It is just as you think, little one. You have no reason to fear me, for I am merely... an adventurer."

"Adventurer? Truly?"

"Yes, and perhaps one day, you too shall find the aspiration."

"What is your name?" The boy smiled, happy that he had made a new friend.

"My name is Didact. Holder of the Mantle."

"I'm not sure what that is.."

He stood as he replied,"It is a great title, meaning a great protector. I will see you again, Frodnar. I wish you and your Stump well."

Didact turned and walked to the trader, where he was met by the sight of an argument. A man with short black hair and a face that had a stubble stood behind a counter. Across the room, stood a woman who had her black hair up in a bun, and wore a fair brown dress. What the Didact didn't notice was the plate in her hand.

"It's just a damn CLAW!" She threw it, and it shattered all over the shelf behind him.

"Damn, woman! Mother really gave you an arm! Oh, hey there stranger. Name's Lucan, that there's Camilla. Whaddya need?"

The Didact bowed his head in greeting. "I am the Didact. It is a pleasure to meet you. I came to purchase a few more bits of armor for myself."

Lucan crossed his arms, as if analyzing him. "Not sure if you knew, pal, but it seems like my armor won't exactly hug you. 'cept for that steel armor you have there."

"It is no issue, I assure you. I have a good amount of your currency. Will this suffice for more steel?" Didact held out a small cloth bag, and dropped it on the counter. "It should be about five-hundred, if I remember correctly."

"Haha, splendid! Now this here's my best set, made it myself."

Camilla glared at him, hand on her hip. "Excuse me? I was the one who smelted and engraved everything. No credit for me? Well."

"Alright, alright! Didact, she made it too. There, happy?"

"Whatever." She sat down and began knitting.

Didact hoisted up the armor, examining it. It was similar to his current attire, only slightly thicker, a few more engravings here and there, and it had fur around the shoulders. As before, he traced it along the seams with a finger, and it was only a moment before the armor floated in the air in front of him.

Lucan and Camilla stared in awe. "what are you-"

With a small groan, the armor split up again into sections, reforming itself. This time, however, it formed into two curved plates, which then floated around the Promethean's ankles. they clamped on, fur lining the inside. The shoulder plates then split into little curved half rings, which all fell into place and lined his clawed toes. His thighs were now encased in a smooth, gunmetal grey armor.

The last few remaining pieces formed themselves into finger plates and forearm guards. With a grin, he looked himself over, and turned towards the door. He turned to Lucan, almost forgetting to ask.

"What were you two arguing about?"

Lucan shook his head, clearing himself of his stunned expression. "Uh, oh that. Well, apparently, my favorite golden claw was stolen, not even sure how. My sister here says I should just 'let it go'. Like hell I will! That thing has been in our family for generations, and I'm not about to forget about it!."

Didact thought for a moment, and then said, "I shall retrieve it at once for you. Expect me back within the following week."

The Breton's eyes widened, and he smiled at that. "Truly? You will? Great! Thank you so much, I will definitely repay you!"

"Camilla rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother."

"It is my pleasure. I bid you both farewell." He clanked out the door, ducking his head to avoid hitting the doorway.


	5. Litmus

**Here it is! As always, enjoy! I tried my best to keep this one lengthy.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_I don't know why, but I suddenly feel like I must help however I can. I think your softness has rubbed off on me, dear. Not an hour goes by that I think of you, and I only hope that every good deed will bring me closer to finding a way out. Although, I'm slowly starting to appreciate this world. It has a beauty that is unique, it would certainly be a shame to have the parasite claim it._

"Well friend, it seems like this is where we part ways. I have to head to Windhelm, and give Ulfric an update of what's happened." Ralof slung his pack over his shoulder, looking to the east where the sun began to rise.

They had slept in Gerdur's for the night, but Didact politely requested that he slept near the river outside. The Promethean stayed for dinner, although he only ate a few cheese wedges, some eggs, and a loaf of bread. He explained to everyone at the table of why he had such a certain diet, making light conversation. As strange as it was, no one was offended.

It was morning now, and Ralof had helped the Didact pack everything he needed, which turned out to be very little: A few carrots, tomatoes, a bottle of milk, and a few healing potions. They were standing at the opposite gate of which they came, and were saying their goodbyes.

Didact placed his hand on Ralof and Gerdur's shoulder. "I am grateful for you hospitality, and I shall return soon. I must head to Whiterun. Until next time."

Gerdur smiled and hugged him, although it was a bit awkward due to the Promethean's size. "Take care."

Ralof nodded to both of them. "Be seeing you. Very soon." He turned and walked up the mountain behind the farm, heading towards the East.

The Didact, however, needed to head North. His armored feet clinked as he crossed the stone bridge, up a hill, and then straight down the other side. Whiterun was not something easily missed. He took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air, when he spotted a commotion. There was a man, who seemed to be his size.

_A fellow Forerunner? Here? No, what are the chances? Wait... he is under attack._

The man held a club, which he swung wildly towards the ground. Didact began marching, increasing his pace. He stepped over a stone fence, avoiding the few farmfolk watching on from a distance. As he neared, he realized with disappointment that this was no Forerunner. It was only a man, who had a thick beard with several bits of dirt and foliage still clinging to it. He had his skin bare, with the exception of a thick fur pelts acting as a small robe.

He was still much taller than the Didact, standing about twelve feet tall. Around him were several other Nords, three men and one woman. She was wielding a shield and sword, which she used to hack at her aggressor's toes. One of her allies distracted it from behind, slicing at it's legs.

The other two fired their bows, sticking several arrows into it's back. This barely seemed to slow it down, and only served to anger it more. The Didact decided that enough was enough. He walked straight towards the commotion, getting strange looks from the fighters. The giant turned it's attention toward him, gripping it's club in anger.

The Didact held up hand. "Hail, fellow. What's going on here?"

The giant said nothing, but his anger subsided. The Nords stepped back as the giant walked up to him. It looked him in the eye, club over his shoulder. He spoke in a deep, throaty voice.

"I seem to be in quite the thicket, as you saw. Came by to 'ave a bit o' morning tea. these bastards come by, think well of it to start assaulting me. To tell you the truth, I wasn't in the least bit interested in this damned farm. I was only going by to grab a nice deer or what 'ave you."

The Didact crossed his arms. "I see. You simply wanted food, and you weren't going to bother looking here. I believe you. What's your name?"

"My mates call me Brohm. The townfolk said something along the lines of 'lunky oaf'." Brohm gestured to the Nords standing before them, who had looks of frustration.

Didact shook his head. He turned to the nords, "I believe you owe this fellow an apology. Do so."

The woman looked to her companions, and stepped forth. She muttered "sorry", and promptly marched back to Whiterun. Her companions followed, not looking back. Didact clasped Brohm's arm and shook it in a friendly way.

"I am sorry for your trouble. I did spot a flock of these deer over the ridge, back there. Try not to disturb the Riverwood folk, they work as hard as you."

Brohm nodded his thanks. "o'course. Thanks very much. I only wish more were like you." Without missing a beat, he ambled up the hill, and disappeared behind the trees.

Didact smiled to himself, and made his way up towards the gate. As he approached the front gate, a guard took notice, and stood in his path.

"Is there an issue I am not aware of, sentry?" The Promethean gave an annoyed huff.

The guard shook his head. "Can't let you in, the gates are locked. We've been getting reports of a dragon about."

"I have information critical to the situation."

"Oh? By all means, enter! Please, head up to dragon's reach. Biggest building here atop the highest hill. Good luck." He nodded up towards the gate guard above him, and the doors parted.

* * *

The Didact entered, and took in the city: It was a busy with various kinds of commoners, homesteads on every corner. To his right, a woman was talking with another nord, who wore the garb of an Imperial. From what he saw, the woman didn't seem to be enjoying the conversation.

_I'm not sure this may be worth my time. I don't have to help ev-_

"You! Grey-Mane, or Battle-born?" The blonde man stood with his arms crossed, his expression blank, as if to wait for his answer before passing judgement.

"I'm not sure what you mean. If you must, I'll say Battle-born."

Immediately, the Nord's face softened, and he patted slapped a fist against his chest. "Then I say well met friend, I knew you were a sharp one as soon as I laid eyes on you. until next time."

The Didact watched him go, unaware of what had just happened. The woman looked at him, shaking her head.

"Did I offend you?" he cocked his head quizzically."

She began pounding a slab of hot iron with a hammer. "Nope, not at all. I'm just a bit disappointed. How can you side with those milk drinkers?"

"I beg for a pardon, but i didn't seem to grasp the relevance of either name."

"They're noble houses, Orc. Battle-born and us Gray-Manes have been in a feud for Talos knows how long. We Gray-manes are the truer sons and daughters of Skyrim, and those bastards decide to sympathize with the Imperials. Scum." She angrily smacked her hammer down, chipping the anvil.

"Then you will be pleased to know that I only said so to merely make a good impression, and that I actually don't care for either house." He looked at the distant castle in the distance.

The woman calmed herself, and and wiped the sweat off of her forehead. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't know. I should really watch my tongue. Sorry again. I'm Adrianne Avenicci, by the way."

"Didact, and it's quite alright. I expected such a reaction. It was a pleasure to meet you. I must be on my way. Good day."

He walked through the markets, ignoring any other folk who attempted to spark up a conversation, or to convince him to buy their goods. Despite the summer's heat, he wasn't sweating. Even though he wasn't wearing body-assist armor, his temporary guard still had somewhat of a temperature regulation system. Everywhere he looked, everyone had something to keep themselves cool. Most had water, some held fans, and a few even used ice magic to blow a cool breeze for themselves and others.

Didact climbed the massive steps, making his way to a set of doors that could allow Brohm through without trouble. He nodded to the guards as he entered, and saw himself walking towards a feasting hall. There, he noticed a well dressed man who wore a crest on his head sat in a throne, rubbing his forehead as his advisor conversed with him.

The Didact assumed that this was the Jarl, leader of the this region. He was so lost in thought as approached, he didn't notice a dunmer woman clad in leather armor approaching him with her sword in hand. She had a face that looked as though it were chiseled from stone, despite having the angular face of an elf.

"Stop right there, the Jarl is not taking any outsiders."

"I have important information regarding the recent dragon attack. Understand, that i myself was there to witness it. You'd be wise to sheathe your blade, warrior." He raised his hand, all six fingers curled toward his palm intimidatingly. She took notice of his unusual physical trait, and and nodded her nose at that.

"What's with your hand, orc? Been experimenting with dark magic?" She smirked, as if to get a rise out of him. But the Promethean would not have it. Instead, he walked towards the jarl, muscling past her. As he got closer, he slowly became the center of attention. He cleared his throat, and bowed his head.

"Jarl of the whiterun hold, I am the Didact, supreme commander of the Forerunner empire, and I bring you news of a beast. A dragon that had attacked the Imperial garrison at Helgen." He waited for a reaction, his bright orange eyes flicking up and down. The Jarl shifted uneasily, and nodded. "My name is Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. Aye, so you saw it. What did it look like?"

Didact closed his eyes for a moment, and then pointed at the floor in the middle of the floor. A hologram materialized seemingly out of thin air, orange particles coming together to form the contours of the beasts body. Everyone looked in complete awe, as the simulation came to life, flying along the ceiling of the hall and unleashing a pixelated gout of fire.

The Promethean slowly closed his hand, and the hologram came and rested on his forearm. It bellowed a war cry, and faded from existence. "This is what you face. I am shocked none of you have tamed them. They may become powerful tools of destruction and conquest."

Balgruuf held his face in his hands, took a sip of his mead, and sat up straighter. "We've only just started hearing of their return. We had no idea. You've given me what I needed, Didact. In return of your favor, I bestow on you this set of elven armor. May it serve you well." He clapped his hands, and a servant-girl walked into the room. She held the armor out to him, neatly folded. Didact took the armor in his hand, eyeing it appreciatively.

It was gold and sleek, and small red leather flaps fell downward like a small skirt. It had avian features, with red padding lining the inside. He traced his finger, heard a satisfying click, and smiled as the armor began to form a helmet, as well as more plating for his lower back and arms.

* * *

**At this rate, I feel like I should draw a concept of what Didact looks like as of now. Hmm...**

**Like it? Meh? Stay tuned!**

**PS: I apologize for the lack of combat, it's a little hard to make a fight last long, with the Didact's power and all. I'll find a way to counter that, promise! **


	6. To Boast

**A/N: The Didact won't be a pacifist, not to worry. **

**Damn, I thought this'd be longer. Awe well, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_Perhaps it is my stature and size that repels all but the bravest foes. I haven't fought anything for hours, and I fear I may need to rest again soon. Even though the sun is has just awoken, I feel a bit drained._

The sun was once again rising from the east by the time the Didact had left through the front gate, and made his way toward the misty mountains that clustered to the south of the hold. It was a short walk, as the Promethean took long strides that helped save precious time. He was, after all, seeking something far more important than the mere mythical return of long dead creatures.

But the dragons were indeed well alive, that much was certain. However, with every day that passed by, the sense of urgency that plagued the Didact's thoughts seemed to ebb away little by little. More and more, he felt as though he now had a new purpose in Skyrim. With deep contemplation, the Didact had accepted his unfortunate series of events, knowing that good things came to those who would choose to wait.

He was content with the armor he had now. Clad in plates of silver and gold, his face was obscured by a skull faced-helmet that was almost identical to his own. This different design now had to sharp mandibles that curved along the sides of his head, and hung low by the skull's teeth like a set of fangs. There were no hardlights that illuminated his eyes like before. Instead, to slightly larger eye socket-shaped holes sat, unblinking. The helmet was also smoother, but did reflect light like most metallic armors.

It would serve it's purpose, and the Didact was certain that he would find plenty of other materials from which he could create an entirely new set. Reassured with his newfound confidence, he rounded a tree and started across a small stream. An arrow flew right into the Promethean's chest guard, clanging uselessly off into the water. He craned his head to look for the source, when he spotted three bandit's approaching. There were two men, one woman. She was a wood elf, and she held an unusual weapon: It appeared to be a suppressor, although it was made of wood and metal, and it had a half crescent with a taut string on top that held a short bolt in place.

Unlike the leather armor she wore, her partners had fur padding with large skulls placed upon their shoulders. They both wielded weapons that required two hands, one held a large blade, the other a hammer. The Bosmeri marksman held her crossbow from her hip, still pointed lazily in the Didact's direction. She smiled smugly. "I am so sorry, did I nearly hit you?"

The Promethean was bemused, and crossed his arms. "I believe that you actually had scored a direct hit. I am to also believe that this was your purpose. You beings are so blind to the actual peril that threatens your very existence. Even the rabble recognize that which you do not, bosmer."

This made her snarl in anger, and she readied her weapon. "Just hand over any gold, or I'll pin a nice little bolt between your... damn, you have a helmet. Jori, Belrof, cleave off this fools armor!" She took a step back, firing her bolts wildly in a vain attempt to break the Didact's defenses.

The two nords charged him with their weapons held high, managing to land a few blows that never connected. Instead, they bounced off of a thin invisible layer. The one with the hammer spat. "He's got some kind o' barrier, Renay. Jori, take 'im from behind!"

By the time he finished the sentence, the Didact had already recovered, and tackled Jori. With a massive crunch, he brought his entire fist into the bandit's stomach, shattering bone, pulverizing his delicate organs, and was rewarded with an excruciating scream. He was still, a pained expression forever plastered on his face. The Promethean turned to Belrof. He had his steel blade at the ready, but now the fear in his eyes was all too obvious. The Bosmer arbalest was still trying to get a bead on him, but to no avail.

More bolts whistled through the air, lodging themselves into the dirt, and clicking off of nearby rock. Belrof gripped his sword white knuckle tight, and with the strongest warcry he could muster, he charged. The Didact wasn't nearly expecting such an act of desperate courage, and managed to swipe the blade away towards the thick plating on his shoulders, instead of the thinner material that hugged his muscular neck.

It clanged off of the elven and nordic metal, throwing the bandit off balance. Without missing a beat, the Didact picked him up by the neck, his hand easily wrapping around his circumference. He made sure to hold him towards Renay, who would only be able to land her next shot in his back. Belrof did everything he knew to escape such a grip, but he had never trained himself to face such a massive and powerful foe.

His resistance was futile, and after a few more moments, his struggling ceased. The Promethean dropped his limp body, and searched for the one they called Renay. She was nowhere to be seen, only the field of grass swaying with the direction of the rising winds remained ahead. He examined the carnage he dealt. Jori was in a crumpled mess, his widened eyes staring coldly at the sky, as though he were screaming at his gods to not be taken yet. Belrof was a stark contrast, as he seemed to be sleeping. His eyes were closed, and there were no visible wounds, save for a few red streaks that lined his neck.

The Didact crouched down, looting a fine amount of gold septims from the fallen Nords. Wiping his gauntleted hands together of the coagulated neck, he listened once more for any signs of possible assailants. Finally deciding that the elf had run away, the Didact made his way up the mountain, being sure to avoid any further conflict.

It was only a short walk before the Promethean saw the grey silhouette of the tomb, and the snowfall had begun to thicken. It wasn't long before he heard two angry voices arguing, and revealing their position. He stealthily approached the stone steps, despite his size and stature. There were two bandits, each one standing near the large entrance. It was apparent that they hadn't had any activity since their shift began, the Didact mused. Easily enough, he approached them without alarm. They were still mid sentence, when the Promethean backhanded the balding Breton, sending him flying into the nearby wall.

Fire spread up the Didact's calf as he felt the cold bite of the other's blade. It wasn't very deep, but it was enough to cause him to bleed. With a rising anger, he slapped the two sides of the man's head, crushing it with little effort. The unlucky bastard collapsed in a crumpled heap. He sat down, unhinging the metallic plating that covered his ankle. Dark red ichor dripped onto the snow, spattering it with a rich red luster. He raised his palm, and the golden strands of light once again snaked out of the tips of his fingers, and collected into the raw flesh. It was mere minutes as the wound mended and renewed the limb.

Fire spread up the Didact's calf as he felt the cold bite of the other's blade. It wasn't very deep, but it was enough to cause him to bleed. With a rising anger, he slapped the two sides of the man's head, crushing it with little effort. The unlucky bastard collapsed in a crumpled heap. He sat down, unhinging the metallic plating that covered his ankle. Dark red ichor dripped onto the snow, spattering it with a rich red luster. He raised his palm, and the golden strands of light once again snaked out of the tips of his fingers, and collected into the raw flesh. It was mere minutes as the wound mended and renewed the limb.

The Promethean had gotten even better at healing, despite choosing the warrior's stone. He had practiced numerous times on himself, and on anyone who he deemed deserved a proper amount of aid. Clicking the curved plate back into place, he stretched his tingling joints. He still wasn't used to the feeling, but he knew that everything was as it was before he was struck. He realized that although he was indeed powerful, he was not invincible. Then, without another thought, he pulled open the stone door, and made his way in.

* * *

**Do you like it when I take my time with the plot, or would you like me to fast-forward to where the Didact meets Lydia? Or perhaps when he kills Mirmulnir, the first dragon he'll fight himself?**

**Let me know in the comments and reviews!**

**~Rising**


	7. Surprise

**I want to thank you all for your wonderful reviews, your various opinions have helped me very much!**

**To be honest, I have no idea how many chapters will be posted. I've also considered making a short storyboard of certain chapters. **

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_I've framed it in my mind before, you know. Dreamt of days where we wouldn't have to worry about meddling with the lives we were born to protect. There are some days where I ask myself why we even have to worry about anything other than ourselves. Perhaps you were trying to teach me something invaluable before I die, and join the rest of you? I may never know._

The Didact stood in the court mage's study, a bored expression on his face. The wizard sat in his chair, muttering to himself excitedly while looked over the dragonstone. It was a bronze, roughly triangular slab. All over the front, there were little rune-like carvings that bore a measure of significance. The Promethean played his little task through his mind once more.

It wasn't overly difficult to find his way in the ancient tomb, save for the number of bandits that milled about, waiting in ambush. The Didact would never grow tired of their reaction at seeing such a titan, clad in gunmetal grey armor, yet moving without a sound. In the few minutes it took to dispatch them, he had awoken a new kind of enemy: withered humans that still had the will to fight.

They clambered with rusted weapons, and chunks of tough nordic plating still clung to them. They fell at the Didact's feet just the same, despite their numbers. With swift swipes of his fists, and sharp jabs of his legs, he managed to create a small pile of dessicated corpses, and he walked through the narrow halls. It was a somewhat awkward fit, but he was soon able to breathe again when he entered a vast room that was covered in thick strands of webbing.

The enormous frostbite spider had caught him by surprise, knocking him to the ground, eager to sink it's swollen fangs into another victim. But the Didact would not have it. He plunged his pointed fingers deep into the arachnid's carapace, causing it to cry out in pain, shriveling into a lifeless paperweight as the last of it's life blood drained out onto the floor.

The Didact rubbed his temples as he sat in the wizard's guest chair. He met a Dunmer, who called himself "Arvel the Swift". When the Promethean had asked him where the dragonstone was, the strange person dismissed the subject, and stated that he knew where it was, and that he only needed to be cut down to show him. Seeing no other way around this, the Didact ripped out Arvel's bonds. Before he could ask him if he was alright, the little elf had darted down the hall, taunting the Didact as he made his getaway.

It wasn't long before the Promethean found Arvel at the bottom of the stairway in the next chamber, hacked to pieces by another draugr. This one wielded something cold in it's hand, and it took only a moment to realize what it had: projectiles. It fired blue shards of ice, each one faster than the last, but luckily they shattered like glass whenever they collided with his armor. Hefting a stone, the Didact made it fly like a bullet. It smashed the undead nord's skull, spattering maggots and old bone dust along the wall.

After wrestling and thrashing his way through several hallways, he had finally made it out into a natural cave, save for the temple-like platform ahead. As he made his way up the stone steps, he saw that there was another of the ornate coffins he had began to grow cautious of. Behind it, sat a wall that curved so that any that approached would be semi-surrounded by whatever inscriptions were written upon it. Looking around the cave, he sensed nothing was happening.

He took his time in looking at the bits and baubles that sat on a decorated desk, being careful not to awaken another possible enemy. there sat a helmet, which did not interest him, a few gold trinkets, and a couple of healing potions that he grabbed. As he did so, an orange light surrounded the object, and it disappeared, as if from existence. He sat there, confused, until his armor opened up a holo-display in front of him, that showed the few items that he had in his inventory. This would be very helpful, indeed.

Then there it was, the anomaly that had given him his current headache. The chanting. The blue wisps of energy that called to him, seductively luring him toward the wall. As he approached it, clanking one hoof in front of the other, the incomprehensible language grew more and more intense. It wasn't until he had brushed his gauntlet over the glowing markings that he heard a chorus of voices cheering rhythmically, as though he had shown a great feat of courage in battle. His head pounded with newfound knowledge that he did not yet recognize.

He was still trying to grasp what had happened, when he heard the annoying sound of a large slab of slate sliding, then crashing onto the ground. Out came another draugr, which wore a horned helmet. It used a large, rectangular battleaxe that glowed with a white sheen. It took a moment to clack it's jaw into place, muttered something under it's breath, and charged at him. This one was clearly a superior to all of the others the Didact had encountered, as it managed to cause a large gash in his chest piece.

The blow didn't hurt him in the least, but it instead sent a freezing aura throughout his body, momentarily immobilizing him. After regaining his footing, he tackled the creature. Unfortunately, the draugr had yelled some sort of incantation, which caused a large blast of air to fly from it's gullet. Luckily, the creature's aim had been aimed away from him, and struck a few stalactites that hung above. The Promethean threw himself off the poor bastard, and smirked as it was impaled by a particularly sharpened rock. As it gave it's last breath, the dying draugr pulled out the very stone the Didact had been looking for out of it's chest. He picked it up, and made his way back.

"A dragon? The Jarl needs my help?"

"Yes, Farengar. Didact, we need your help as well. Follow me, by the Jarl's orders." He had been so engrossed in his thoughts, that he hadn't even sensed Irileth walking into the room. He followed them up the stairs, where they passed a guard who had the look as though he had seen his father's ghost. In the Jarl's personal study, they gathered around the table, where a map lay. Balgruuf scratched his beard idly, as if thinking of how to present his next task.

"I am getting reports. Reports of a dragon. It was circling the western watchtower, showering my men in flames. Didact, I want you to accompany Irileth and her guards to slay the beast!" He slammed his hand on the table, to emphasize his anger.

Knowing the anger was directed at the dragon and not him, he simply placed his palm on his chest, and bowed his head.

"Expect us within the hour, Jarl." Nodding to Irileth, who had grown more respect for him, smiled back. They marched through the front doors, eager to test their skills on a foe unlike any other.

It didn't take long for the monster to come whirling down the mountainside, unleashing a terrifying roar. The scene was a mess. Bodies were strewn about, some torn to shreds, others were charred to withered skeletons. This time, the Didact was ready. He looked to one of the guards by his side. "Your sword, human."

The nord didn't hesitate, switching to his bow. He fired without thinking, missing every shot, but certainly getting the dragon's attention.

Taking a few hopping steps forward, the Didact threw the blade as though it were a javelin, sending it on an intercept course. From far away, it seemed like it had no effect on the beast. Then, he noticed it's flapping had slackened, and it veered towards the tower, and crashed into the clearing before it

. It was angered, it's ability to fly now ruined by the sword that had twisted it's way through one of it's wings. Irileth had her magic ready, an axe in the other hand. "Get back! Didact, go for it's eyes!"

She fired a few streaks of blue-white energy, preventing it from unleashing it's biological flame. It snorted in annoyance as it neared the Promethean, it's muscular legs gouging the dirt. Before it had a chance to recuperate from another round of arrows and electrical blasts, the Didact was already upon it. He launched himself into the air, and landed with both hooves on the dragon's snout. It cried out in pain, and was vulnerable. Before the Didact brought up both fists clasped together, he heard a grave and deep voice speak.

"Balaan hokoron. You are a worthy foe."

"One that not even you could conquer." With a mighty swing, he brought his fists down onto the beast's head. There was a loud crunch, followed by one last bellow.

"Dovahkiin! No!" No sooner had the Didact jumped off of the beast's head, when the sound of crackling, like fire licking wood, had appeared. The Promethean turned with cautious interest. Mirmulnir's scales began to fall off, and the leathery skin underneath began to glow a bright orange.

"A last second mechanism? It will not help you." The Didact turned to walk away, when a pulse of energy had hit him square in the back. The unexpected feeling of vast knowledge flooded his mind once again, seeing pink and white swirls of the dragon's life force fluttering about him. During the time it took to finish muscling through the sensation the dragon's soul delivered, no one spoke.

When it was finally over, one of the surviving guards, a man who had a bandage wrapped around one eye, approached him. The Didact looked at him quizically.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could find the words.

"You're... Dragonborn!"

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**Bum bum bum!**

**I apologize if the fight seemed a bit abrupt, but that's only because I wanted to get past the part where he's revealed.**

**"Until next time."**


	8. Prepared

**Some of these characters are made up, for example Raaj'it and this nord woman. I guess that makes them the only thing I own, huh?**

**I really appreciate your feedback everyone, and thanks shadowayn for watching put for new chapters!**

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**Chapter 9**

_I am to be the savior of more than one world? Why does this not surprise me? I am slowly becoming more accepting of the ancient's plan, whatever it may be. Are you sure that you were the one to set all of these events into motion, my love? No matter. Whatever lies ahead, I shall endure the travails that await me._

"You have done a great deed for me, Dragonborn. I hereby name you thane of Whiterun, where everyone shall recognize your greatness. I also appoint you Lydia, one of our toughest in the garrison, to be your housecarl." Balgruuf scratched his beard idly as he waited for the Didact's reaction.

To his content, he merely nodded and placed his polydactyly on his chest in thanks. "I merely aimed to assist, knowing that this would only be one out of a billion conflicts that have yet to happen." Before he turned to leave, the Jarl held up his hand.

"Wait, There's one more thing. Have this, the axe of Whiterun. May it serve you well. Also, should you ever need any home, talk to Proventus here. He'll get you sorted out."

Avenicci, who was checking his nails, turned to speak next. "Certainly, provided you have the correct amount of gold for compensation." He smiled, and handed the Didact a form for purchase.

The Promethean took the scroll, and it disappeared once more into his inventory, gold ribbons fading away. He turned to leave through the front doors, his next task clear. He was to speak to a group known only as the Grey Beards. From what Balgruuf had told him, they were four elders who lived in the summit of the highest mountain in Skyrim, known as the Throat of The World. There, they spent the majority of their lives studying and training themselves in the way of the voice, an ultimate power that was stolen from dragons by the previous holders of the title of 'Dovahkiin'.

After killing Mirmulnir, and absorbing what everyone around the Didact surmised to be the creature's soul, it was mentioned that the Dragonborn could shout. "Shout?", the Promethean asked. The guard slowly nodded, "Aye, it has something to do with feeling it within yourself, and yelling.."

After he had digressed from his deep thought, Didact took in a deep breath, and yelled one word. "FUS!" A blast of cool air, blue and white at nearly the same time, fanned outward from his jaws. The raw power dissipated, but not before sending up clouds of dirt and rocks into the air in front of them. The guards, as well as the ever skeptical Irileth, needed no more convincing. She simply said, "We need to tell the Jarl."

As they neared the front gates, they stopped mid-pace as the sky turned a faint orange. The only thing they could hear was a glorious chorus of voices, speaking all at once. "DOVAHKIIN!" There was nothing else. This only left the Didact perplexed, wondering what else could possibly lie in wait for him. After telling Balgruuf in Dragonsreach, he and his brother Hrongar explained to him what his destiny was.

According to Nord legend, he was the Dragonborn, a being with the soul of a dragon, thus giving him the ability to absorb those of others. Alduin, the great bane of all existence, was to be slain by his hand, else the world of Nirn would cease to exist. It was not his choice, although this did not seem to perturb the Didact in the least. In truth, he could not wait to conquer the ancient deity, where he would then begin his search for a way off of the planet.

The Didact held the axe, a large, two-handed weapon, made specifically for him during his absence. Walking down the steps toward the doors, a woman with raven black hair and steel armor approached him. She was tall compared to everyone else, but she only stood up to the Promethean's chest. She held a sideways fist to her own plate, lowering her head in respect.

"Greetings my thane", she said. "I am Lydia, shield-maiden of Whiterun. The Jarl has appointed me to guard you and all you own, with my life." She looked up at him, curious of his reaction. she could not see his face, the helmet obscuring his eyes.

Realizing this, the Didact willed the plates to fold back, revealing his face to her. He noticed that Lydia seemed to inwardly gasp at the sight, but then hastily corrected herself. he clasped his gauntlet on her shoulder.

"I am honored to have you as my guardian, Lydia. There is much that many do not know of me. However, you are to be the only possible exception. Be prepared to have everything I know instructed to you, until it becomes a significant part of you." He took a small step back, using the fine axe as aid for his balance.

Lydia said nothing at first, taking in the incredible opportunity she had just been given. She then laughed, her eyes showing absolute glee. "My thane, I cannot wait... I stand ready to follow your lead!"

The Didact loosed a laugh of his own, startling the arguing children nearby, and even himself. He hadn't laughed like that in ages. "Excellent. However, your armor's current design is too bulky." He continued, as they walked side by side through the streets of the hold. The Promethean realized that he was already a few paces ahead of her. He'd have to slow down his gait significantly if she was to stay in pace.

"My thane, I-"

"I understand that you are my guardian, and I your leader, Lydia. Please, enough of the 'thane'. It will get tiring very quickly, just call me Didact."

"Yes my tha- um, Didact. You mentioned you had a way of changing my armor? Will you not need to purchase a new set?"

"Not at all, and you will soon see. Now come, the day is young." They walked out of the front gates, past the drawbridge, and stopped when they saw small camp just on their right. There, they saw a trio of Khajiits with a small trade post set up. The Didact walked forth, Lydia in tow.

The Khajiit who identified as Raaj'it smiled a greeting. "Welcome, warm travellers. You seek to purchase goods, yes? Or perhaps you have come to share stories with Raaj'it?" He gestured to a pair of mats in front of him. The Didact nodded to his housecarl, kneeling down respectfully. He was still quite tall, despite how much he lowered himself. Whether Raaj'it was oblivious to what he really was, or whether he simply didn't care was unknown to the Didact.

"Raaj'it hails from the warm sands of Elswyr", he began, "It is a country that is never without the sun's radiance. Many Khajiit, such as I, feel sad when we talk about it when we travel far." He paused for a moment, sipping from a bowl of warm stew that contained various vegetables. "Raaji'it is very curious, which is natural for his race, where do you hail from?" He stroked his muzzle in curiousity.

The Didact gestured with his hands as he spoke, "I come from a place, and ecumene, unlike any other. I am forerunner, a being of infinite potential. I seem to be the only one here in this.. Skyrim. I am shifting my goals towards now towards saving this unique planet." The Promethean took a moment to finish his own stew that the Khajiit had offered him earlier. "I am a keeper of the mantle of responsibility, a title of which very few beings have been given."

"Should I ever truly fail, I am to pass down the title to anyone of my choosing. Though, I do not see such a fate coming to pass anytime soon." He looked to Lydia, who quietly listened while she ate a small plate of meat and eggs. "I am grateful for your hospitality, at least there are those such as yourself who would gladly share. Should you require anything in return, contact me. With this."

The Didact placed a palm on his chest plate, which started a series of clicks. The metal grooves began to shift, and unfolded. Underneath laid a simple diamond shaped piece of steel. It had small engravings, swirls like the wind on a stormy night. They glowed a faint gold, pulsing with an unknown power. The Promethean clasped it in his hand, and held it out to his new friend. Raaj'it gently took it and eyed it closely, turning it over.

"You need only to speak into it, and I will come at the earliest convenience. Once more, I must sadly announce that we must be heading off soon. I only ask for one of your tents for a small moment, my companion here requires a place to change." He nodded to Lydia, who summoned the most polite smile she could muster.

Raaj'it grinned, nodding eagerly. "Yes, yes, of course! Raaj'it does not mind! Please." He held the tarp open for the two of them, and they entered. It was a humble and simple set up, perfect for someone who took to the title of nomad. Didact nodded to Lydia, holding his hand outward towards her. "Now, Lydia, you simply need to stand, and I will easily reconfigure your chassis. I apologize for the initial discomfort." A moment later, a golden light emanated from his palm. The bands of light once again reached out hungrily for something to latch to, and wasted no time in crawling along the contours of the housecarls' steel.

The sensation made her have to stifle a giggle, but she gasped when the outfit tore itself apart, like the exploded view of one of the Didact's diagrams for his vehicles of war. She wore only a modest yellow bra, which seemed to strain at the effort of holding up her breasts. A matching pair of panties hugged her modestly. She struggled to remain still her face turning a deep red. However, the Didact paid no heed to her embarrassment, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration as he formed her newer design with his mind's eye.

After an agonizing minute, Lydia heard a hissing, like the passing of air through a thin opening, and was relieved when she felt the familiar pressure of armor against her body. She realized that she too had closed her eyes, and opened them up to a marvelous sight. The Didact had summoned a mirror of holographic energy to show her the new outfit. It was of the same material as before, except she now had full mobility of her arms. The fur didn't bristle annoyingly at her neck, and her shoulder plates were more rounded like her Thanes'.

Her back felt different, and was astounded at the angular design it now boasted. The extra plating that had been chafing her stomach for so long now layered itself into two separate wing-like apertures that protected her shoulder blades. Her chest was streamlined, and she gues that the sharp 'v'-shaped layers were made to deflect incoming blows to the sides. She then finally noticed that her arms and legs did not feel as heavy and clumsy as before. Raising her forearm, she realized that they were nearly identical to the Didact's, who sported a single floating strip of elven metal.

The Promethean stood proudly, hands on hips. "What do you think?" He explained further before she could start. "I went more for mobility, but just enough armor so that you would not have worry about being struck from behind."

Smiling involuntarily, she only said, "Didact- this is perfect! It will serve me well, and in turn allow me to serve you without a problem." She bowed her head with respect, and was pleased at his response. The Promethean patted her armored shoulder. "Good. We head out now. Time is short, and it would be optimal if I got to this 'High Hrothgar' before dark." He turned to leave, but stopped. He energized the axe of whiterun, and held it out to her. "Lydia, hold out your dominant arm."

As she did so, the weapon glowed amber, and it wasn't long before the axe disassembled. The floating pieces shifted towards her, where they buried themselves into the grooves and confines of her gauntlet. With a final click, the energy subsided. "Now you fight, even if you lose your sword."

"Raaj'it, I look forward to the next time that we commune. I wish you well." The Didact bowed his head to the Khajiit, and motioned for Lydia to follow him down the road. Raaj'it then ran up to the Didact as he yelled in alarm, "Wait! Raaj'it nearly forgot! He saw something ancient that may belong to his new friend. It was of a silver, with gold like the device he gave to Raaj'it!"

The Didact clanked his way back, suddenly very intent on hearing the amazing information. "The Khajiit shook his head, as though the answer would frustrate him. "It was within a caravan, driven by a nord woman. She wore a dress as black as the night sky that hangs above Elswyr, and a fine crest of fabric that clung around her shoulders. As we Khajiit passed her, Th'rettla pointed out that the mysterious woman had a sort of boots that sat in her carriage. She smiled smugly, and she was gone."

"Do you remember where she was headed last?" The Didact could not believe what he was hearing. A mere woman had stolen one of the fundamental components of his armor? How large was Skyrim? How long before he found her? He had to formulate a plan of interception, and fast. the only other possibility was that this woman had sold his gear to any store vendor in any place. It was a situation the Promethean had dealt with thousands of times before, but here, he was truly lost.

"Raaj'it last saw her heading towards the hold of Riften. the caravan was specially embroidered, so he predicts it will not be as difficult to spot her." He expressed a small amount of pity, knowing there was nothing else he could give.

"Then it will be the last time this nord goes on any form of travel. Lydia, with me."

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**I won't bother explaining the design of Lydia's armor too much, I'll leave it to your imaaaggiinnnaattiooonnn..**

**Thanks for reading, cheers!**


	9. New Neighbor

**As always, read and review!**

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_I honestly forgot how I even ended up in Skyrim. One second, I'm sailing in a ship from Durnmount, the next I'm riding along the many roads that line the province's mountains. I suppose it's not all that bad, I've been making quite a living for myself, what with all of the unwary wanderers here and there that think it's wise to try and rob me. I feel wrong somehow, for taking those strange Argonian boots. They seem... unnatural._

It was a misty afternoon, and Skyrim's sun was settling just behind the mountains that lined the Hjaalmarch region. Adrasteia Akeldama pulled back her hood, letting her raven black hair fall free. It had been a long day in the sun, and she was glad that it was just now getting cooler. Her trip had started all the way from Falkreath, where she'd managed to seduce the jarl's personal caravan driver into giving it up to her. The woman's own satisfaction turned to glee when she saw the riches inside, coupled with a bed and many other features. A carriage of royalty indeed.

Adrasteia had since then been using it as her "mobile base", resting whenever the rare time came up. She travelled alone, preferring to only worry about herself. There were times that she'd fall into a bout of depression, longing to share her life with someone. Life just seemed to have no meaning if it meant that she'd only share her best moments with herself. The feeling only lasted about a week, and came back every other month. Lately however, she'd been feeling pretty good with the way things had been going for her.

It started with the boots. She had no idea who they might have belonged to, and frankly, she didn't care. While riding the carriage, Adrasteia happened to sense a group nearby, five people circling around her behind the cover of the foliage. As she was approaching the stone bridge, a man who wore fur garb and had a wickedly jagged blade stepped out to block her path. he held up a hand, signalling her to stop. Adrasteia inwardly groaned, but she mustered the friendliest smile she could.

She woahed to her horse, and hooked the reigns to the seat's sturdy steel railing."Why, hello there. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise on such a nice, warm morning?"

The gruff looking nord placed his hands on his hips, and spit on the ground. "Well for starters, you owe me a nice surplus amount of gold. About seven-hundred septims."

"Seven-hundred, huh?", she feigned being in deep thought. "What if I don't have enough gold?"

"Then I'm sure you can pay me through _other _means. Now, which is it?" As he finished, the four others stepped out into view, their weapons at the ready. She saw the nord in front, an argonian flanking her left, a breton woman on her right, and two other nord men standing by the bridge behind the leader. Adrasteia hopped down from the wagon, grinning as she did so.

The bandit leader saw what she was wearing, and admitted that he was attracted to what he saw: the woman wore a long flowing dress, that looked like a silk nightgown more than an article of clothing. As she approached him, he noticed that she had her dark hair pulled back by a mahogany hair comb that sat on top. Sticking out above her right ear was a pin that stuck out the back, with little steel tines that dangle and clinked softly as she walked.

There were tiny white flowers that dangled like a vine, stopping at her earlobe. He had to admit, she was certainly pretty for someone who was being threatened. He expected to see her cower and grovel at his feet, not talk as though they were old friends discussing the weather. He was so lost in her gown, that he didn't notice that she was now only a few inches in front of him, studying his face while he stood there.

He could now see that on her clothing bore a distinct pattern, which he thought were thin tree branches that were budding blossoms along their lengths. She arched an eyebrow, as he caught himself staring at her, although she may have thought he was ogling her. He cleared his throat, slightly flustered. Noticing this, Adrasteia began to walk in circles around him as she spoke.

"You must be so tired of living a life like this, sharing your hard-earned wealth with these _fools_." As she rounded him a third time, she trailed a finger along his collarbone. The breton scoffed, rolling her eyes. She continued, "I'm sure you've dreamed of something better, yearning for a life that would have meaning for once." Adrasteia leaned in close to his ear. "Oh brave soldier, come with die with me."

Before he could react, she took the nape of his neck, wrenching it sideways, and clamped her jaw along the side. It was over in seconds, his death throes doing nothing to free himself from the frightening woman's iron grip. Adrasteia moaned with pleasure at tasting the hot blood, her strength suddenly tenfold. It took the others a moment to snap out of their shock, and in a few seconds they were upon her. The breton woman cursed as she fired her arrows, always missing their mark as the vampiress ducked and weaved out of her firing path.

The argonian swung an axe at her, managing to slice off the very ends of her hair. Adrasteia's face scrunched up in anger, and she tackled him. She crunched up the reptile's hand in her own slender palm, and was rewarded with an agonizing scream. She managed to wrestle the one-handed weapon into her possession, raising it high for the killing blow. Instead of beheading the argonian, however, she threw it in a fine line at one of the remaining nords. He was making a beeline for her, in a vain attempt to save his friend.

The axe thwacked into his face, dropping him in an instant. Adrasteia turned back to whimpering argonian, grabbed the sides of his leathery head, and broke the bones in his neck without remorse. Cackling menacingly, she turned to face the last two bandits: the breton woman and the nord. They stood where the dirt met the stone that bridged the gap that the flowing river made.

The breton nocked another arrow, getting a bead on the other woman's face. The man stood in a ready stance, his banded iron shield raised, and his steel blade pointed forward. Adrasteia wasted no time in making her next move. Taking the fallen argonians corpse as a makeshift shield, she charged. The breton fired as fast as her bow would allow her, and huffed in disappointment as the arrows stuck into the reptile's back.

Yelling with her inner fury, the vampiress hurled the cadaver straight at the woman, knocking her off of her feet. The trick bought her enough time to deal with the nord, who bashed his shield into her face during the lull. She gasped as one of her teeth flew through the air, and skittered along the stone road. Adrasteia had had enough. She took ahold of the nord's shield, pulling with enough strength to wrench his arm out of it's socket. Wielding the iron guard like a cudgel, she smashed away until his helmet finally crunched and fell off.

Underneath, he was bruised and battered beyond conventional repair. Although, he wouldn't need a healer where he was going, she thought. Putting all of her strength into her last swing, she connected the shield's edge right into the bastard's neck. With a wet crack, his head flew into the riverbed, splashing with the weight of a good sized stone. She was panting now, exerting herself in the sun was never a good idea. Growling, she turned to the coughing breton who was still prone, struggling to rise.

Adrasteia grabbed her by the throat, holding her above the ground. She sneered as she said, "I'm going to need my tooth back."

Without waiting for a reply, she took the woman, exposed her neck, and drank her dry. The breton cried out in pain, hoping someone would hear her. Her pleas soon turned to slow moans as she felt the last of her strength being sucked out of her. After a few more moments, all was still and silent. Satisfied, the vampiress fixed her hair as her injuries healed, and her tooth grew back.

Taking the dead woman by her furs, she threw the corpse into the water below, where it silently floated away. Leaving the carnage behind, Adrasteia continued north. The ride was eventless, at least, until she came upon a tower filled with bandits. Looking up at the clouds that began to roll in, she pulled her caravan over to a safe cover under a nearby tree. Her horses were always nervous around her, but were so easily swayed by her honeyed words whenever she comforted them.

Adastreia approached them casually, smiling. Her sharp canines peeked ever slightly and hung over her bottom lip. Immediately, an orc and a nord yelled at her to halt, unsheathing their weapons. Smiling wickedly, the vampiress tore them to bits, and charged into the tower without missing a beat. It was over in seconds. Bodies lined halls, spatters of blood painted rooms in a grotesque fashion, equipment and destroyed objects littered the floors. Admiring her handiwork, she almost pitied how weak everyone seemed to her. Mortals were so easy to break.

She was about to leave the map room as she preened herself, when something in the corner caught her eye. Curiously, she saw that it was a chest, still unlocked, as something inside refused to allow it to shut. Out of anything in the dim grey room, this was the only object that seemed to emanate any color. Pushing the lid open, Adrasteia gasped as she saw a fine pair of boots. They looked heavy, but they would not be difficult for her to carry. They had layers consisting of multiple glimmering plates that were arranged similarly to scales.

What drew her to them the most were the intricate golden lines that curved around its contours. Adrasteia picked them up, eager to try them out. She huffed in disappointment as she realized that the boots were designed for a beast race with two massive talons in place of toes. No matter, she would add them to her collection. She was sure that they'd look great with her-

With horror, she dropped them. "Vile s'wit!"

At first, they were so alluring, and in turn, caused her to fondle them without caution. She then noticed that it seemed as though they were constructed of silver; a holy metal. To her relief, her hands were fine. there were no scorch marks, nothing that would have required several years to heal.

Adrasteia realized that she had dithered for the better part of an hour; the sun would be settling soon. She decided that it would be best for her to make a stop at an inn, where she would rest without worrying about being ambushed, or her caravan being ransacked. Leaving the macabre scene behind her, she made it back to the caravan just before the setting sun broke through the clouds.

She threw the boots into the back, hearing them clink onto the wood floor, and shut her rear door before moving along.

Adrasteia played her favorite moments and memories in her mind, and came back to reality when she saw that she had instead wandered into the whiteshore region, according to her enchanted map. _Oh well_, she thought,_ Perhaps I'll stumble into more interesting treasure troves along my way._ She had also heard rumors of a murder that targeted young women in Windhelm, kidnapped, and then butchered them with seemingly no remorse.

_Easy prey_, she mused, whipping the reigns on her horses to make haste.

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**What did you think? Like my original character so far? **

**'Till next time.**


	10. Unpleasant Morning

**Hey, sorry this was so short. I wanted to have something to bridge my next idea. Also, I actually don't remember what armor the Didact has so far... I haven't typed on it for about four days.**

**Wasn't it his gloves or something? Damn. Anywho, enjoy!**

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_We are in a territory known as 'The Rift', according to Lydia. How we ended up here, I'll never know. Luckily, the foes we've encountered together proved to be little trouble, easily falling under our precise combat strategies, and always failing to harm us. I am very glad that her new body assist suit serves her well, I would hate to have to stop and take minutes to heal her after every skirmish._

It had been a week of rigorous travel. By the time the Didact and his housecarl Lydia saw the stables of Riften, their bodies were well conditioned, but exhausted. Well, Lydia was exhausted. Her armor wasn't as supportive as the Promethean's; she only had the benefit of effective protection, not the auto stamina restoration system that her thane's had.

"Come Lydia, we shall find a suitable place to rest for the night. I must ask if anyone knows of this thief." He beckoned to her, handing her a stamina potion. Smiling gratefully, she pulled the cork and downed it in two gulps.

"Thank you, Didact. I feel alot better, but what is there here in Riften? I am only familiar with the northwest and northeast regions of Skyrim."

"I will not lie, housecarl. I do not know. Call it... a feeling."

He turned toward the gate guard before she could reply. The helmeted nord wore the purple garb of the rift, and crossed his arms when the two approached.

"Halt, all visitors to Riften must pay the fee. No exceptions, let's make this quick." His attitude made Lydia ball up her fists, but said nothing when she saw the Didact speak.

"Oh? Then tell me the cause that this shall be going towards", he boomed, "For I wish to donate all that I can. Unless... you are lying?" With that, his helmet began to fold slowly, a energy thrumming in response.

The guard hastily corrected himself, waving his hands defensively. "Alright, alright! Just keep it down, will you? Having enough trouble around here as it is." He unlocked the gate with a lever, and the clamp unhinged.

It had been about two weeks since Renay's unexpected encounter with the powerful traveller. The bosmer thief was thrown off by the massive being's might. He had easily overthrown her two most trusted hitmen, men she had known for years. All of their experience, friendship, and hard work had been tossed into the fire in only a matter of minutes. She vowed to herself that she would get him back, even if it meant her death.

For now, Renay had decided to lay low in Riften, busying herself with the facade of a retired bounty hunter that decided to purchase one of the finest homesteads, honeyside. It was a cloudy midday, and the breeze was gentle. She walked to the market, where several vendors had set up jewelry, food, armor and the like. She decided to talk to Madesi, the only Argonian who was making quite a profit selling his finest accessories.

The merchant always had a fine selection, but always shifted the topic elsewhere whenever anyone asked him how he had gotten them. Renay waved, and was confused as to why he hadn't recognized her. With a chuckle, she remembered that she had changed her usual outfit to a set of elven armor, as opposed to the usual leather that she favored.

"Morning Madesi", she began, "How fares your merchandise today?"

The Argonian rubbed his chin in thought, then smiled. "Good renay, thanks. Sorry, I forgot that you bought some of that elven gear since you got here. Say, you know anything about that man over there?"

"Who?" Renay shook her head.

Madesi pointed past her, leaning on his counter. "He just came in recently, and he's already made friends with Brynjolf it seems. I wonder if he'd be interested in-" Renay tuned him out, as she got a better look.

The bosmer suddenly felt a cold, hard knot in the pit of her stomach. The tall stature. The floating plates of armor. The amber lights. It was him, she realized. Why in the eight would he be here? Of all places? He had someone with him this time, she noted.

Renay also took note of the fact that his follower now also wore similar armor, although she didn't have as much lighting, but the steel had been formed to be thicker around her torso and back. She also had what looked like the blade of an axe embedded in her arm. A new weapon? Who was this sorcerer?

She was so lost in thought that she didn't realize that everyone was backing away from Madesi's stand, including the Argonian himself. There the tall being stood, his helmet's eyes glaring coldly into hers. For a minute, no one said anything, until finally he had placed his hand on her shoulder. Strangely, she relaxed immediately.

"I forgive you for your rash action from before. I am a guardian of all that exists, and I will only kill when I must. You were oblivious as to my purpose, and that is...forgivable." The armored being placed his fists on his hips heroically.

The bosmer cleared her throat. She was now sweating, and her instincts screamed at her to slash at them with her honed dagger that sat within a compartment in her elbow. "I-I'm sorry. I-"

The figure held up his hand. "Say no more, for your punishment, rather your transgression, is to venture with Lydia and I on our quest. I shall be known to you henceforth as the Didact. Is that understood?"

"Why.. yes! Of course! Um, allow me to gather my trifles? My home is right over here." She pointed to the wooden home in the corner of the courtyard. "I'd only be a minute, I haven't got much."

The Didact nodded to his housecarl, then waved her off with his gauntlet. "We await your return by the gate. First however, I must inquire about items, items that I have lost and am in much need of."

"What do they look like?"

"Armor. My armor." He pointed to It was taken from me upon my unprecedented arrival. I aim to reclaim that of which I hold sacred. You, as well as other allies I may find along the way, are going to assist, as well as save your planet."

"Wait, you mentioned your armor. What exactly did it look like?" She crossed her arms, satisfied that she wouldn't have to die at his hands.

"It gleams unlike any other material known to you, but has the same golden energy coursing through it, such as you see now. Tell me, have you seen anything?"

Renay stared at the ground, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Actually, I do remember seeing something. Boots? If your kind wears boots...", she motioned at his clawed feet, "That may be what you're looking for."

The Didact's helmet unfolded, revealing his face to her. "Where? Can you lead me to them?"

"Last I heard, a few stormcloaks spoke of a woman and her wagon. Said that she only contained valuables, nothing more based on what their search had yielded."

"Then there is no need to dither about in Riften any longer. Although, we may have to stop here more than once. Lydia."

The nord woman stood at attention. "Yes, Didact?"

"Stand guard outside of her door. I will see if I can receive any more information. When I catch this woman..."

The trio left Riften without resting, and the sun had settled. Luckily for Renay, Lydia and the Didact were pretty easy to see, thanks to their illuminated joints. She was beginning to feel a small pang of jealousy. It was like she was being kept out of a secret type of cult, and she definitely wanted in.

She was walking behind them on the dirt road, clanking in her elven gear. Her crossbow was slung across her back, and she felt satisfied knowing she had an ample supply of bolts.

She decided to start up a conversation to keep herself from growing bored, "So... when do I get my own set of armor? Like that, I mean?"

Lydia said nothing as they continued, but the Didact replied over his shoulder, "Not now, at least for the moment. The materials your armor is composed of would not be enough to cover you effectively. It would be too light."

"But this is light armor. It's what I'm adept in wearing. So, if you would kindly...?"

Didact stopped, and Lydia followed suit. She silently watched the exchange between the two.

The Didact shook his head. "When we have the time, and when the opportunity presents itself, then we shall see. For now, we keep moving." He craned his head to his companion. "Lydia, where are we?"

The housecarl pulled out her map, and studied it for a moment. "We are almost heading north, almost half way through the Eastmarch Didact. Should we stop to make a camp?"

The Promethean scanned the skies before replying, "Yes. I shall set up the tents. I only require wood. Nothing more. Renay, Lydia, see to it. Time is short. I will remain here, and consider our next plan." He sat down, and bowed his head in a silent contemplation.

Lydia and Renay slowly gathered their own axes, and moved over to the cluster of trees. They silently agreed on one tree, and began hacking at its base. Lydia decided to start her own conservation.

"So, how exactly did you encounter the Didact?" She stood back a little to allow Renay to swing.

"I wasn't really being my usual bright self, and saw him. He was tall, I thought. That didn't mean I couldn't bring him down, though. Or, so I thought. Gods, I really payed for that mistake."

"Hey, at least he decided not to crush you. I'm glad you're with us, we could use as much help as possible." She swung on her turn once more, causing the mighty oak to fall. Luckily, it wasn't very tall, so it wasn't a great safety hazard.

The bosmer pointed at her armor. "How is that by the way?"

Lydia pointed at her chassis. "This? Oh, it's like a second skin. It's definitely unlike anything I've ever worn before, I can tell you that much. It's like... it's like it's not there, but then you realize it is when you look at it. It's surprisingly protective, despite most of it covering around my upper body.

"I like it, really comfortable and easy to get around in."

Renay leaned on her axes' handle. "Steel?"

"Yep. Don't worry, the Didact can make you a set too. Even he has a few bits of elven armor here and there." Lydia smiled.

"How does he do it? Make it, I mean?"

"It's really something magical. I can't describe it. Anyway, we should continue. A few more should be alright."

"Oh, right. Thanks for accepting me." She approached Lydia, and hugged her, despite their armor clanking together.

She returned it. "You're welcome."

Lydia put her hair up in a bun, and rubbed her neck. It was when they had at least seven trees, that they realized one thing: They had no way of moving the lumber. She watched her thane, studying the gyrating pieces of metal gently gliding back and forth along his shoulders.

The Promethean opened his eyes, and his suit lit up once more. he turned to look at his two followers, and smiled. "What is it, Lydia? Renay?"

His housecarl cleared her throat, looking at the ground with an embarrassed look on her face. "We can't move the trees."

"Ha! Allow me." He stood, stretching his recently inert muscles. he immediately spotted where they had cut the lumber, and promptly waved his hand over them. The bark on every cord began to glow with the ever familiar amber energy. They soon began to creak, forming a small hut of Forerunner design, although this was made of wood instead of the usual metal.

"Make yourselves comfortable. It's going to be a cold night."

The Didact was the first to awake. He had to help Lydia disassemble her suit, showing her where she only needed to apply pressure, and the pieces would fold up into a compact that was the size of a satchel. Renay had no trouble, seeing how she wore armor of a number three rating. He silently willed his own plating over his body, and looked at his companions. Lydia was soundly sleeping in a cot, wearing her armor's undersuit.

The bosmer sported her simple clothing, a shirt and a pair of cloth pants. Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door. Curious, the Promethean approached it, leaving his face uncovered. Once more the knocking sounded. It sounded adamant, and impatient. Just the kind of being he hated dealing with. He would have thought that he would have needed more sleep, since he thought he was seeing three copies of Renay standing at the door.

After doing a double take, he realized that they were not his follower. They were elves, but they didn't seem glad to see him. The one who spoke first wore a black hooded robe, laced with golden trim.

"You there, Orismer. We are here on behalf of the Thalmor Embassy regarding a wanted Bosmer. Have you seen her around here?" She crossed her arms impatiently.

The Didact scowled. "In what way do you see me as this 'Orismer'? Do I truly look like one to you?" He stepped forward, and instinctively, they backed away cautiously. He was beginning to enjoy that reaction. "What would you do with her?"

The Justicar shook her head. "That is none of your concern."

"Then be on your way. I will not waste my energy on beings so petty. You aggravate your superior race."

The Justicar broke into a fit of laughter, her golden skin flushing a bright pink as she finally caught her breath. "You? Superior? An Orc! Auriel, shoot me now!" She quickly regained her composure, and pointed a finger at the Promethean. "You wouldn't know the meaning of the word if it struck you in the face!"

"Perhaps I should show you, then." The Didact stepped forward once more, shutting the door behind him. Grinning, he waved his gauntlet over her followers. At first, they were confused as though nothing had happened.

The Justicar scoffed, shaking her head. "Arrest him."

Silence.

She grew irate, and turned toward her guards. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw what he had done to them. Their armor had amber lights running along their joints, and their panicked faces told what was about to happen.

One younger thalmor winced, "M'lady! I cannot move! Gah!" He leapt forward, swinging his axe. She realized it was not of his own will, but she still had to defend herself. The Justicar leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the elven war axe that nearly cleaved her head in two. It thudded into the dirt, but she had forgotten to move her foot out of the way. It sliced through as though it were cutting hot butter.

The second guard, who wielded a glass blade, stumbled forward. She swung her blade, and it connected into the crook of the other's neck. To her horror, he dropped without a sound. She then began to panic, as her armor started to compress her body. The Didact closed his hand into a fist, effectively crunching her up into a bloody mess.

He stepped up to the Justicar, who was whimpering in agony. She was desperately grasping for a healing potion. "And now you see what fate awaits you, when arrogance is your only weapon." He picked her up by her robe's collar, and scrutinized her with a hateful expression.

"Never again, I swear! Please, just- just put me down and heal me."

"No. Now begone from my sight, and pray to your gods that we do not meet again." He released his grip, and waved his free hand over the bodies. They dissolved into a brilliant golden light, and any signs of their existence faded away forever. The Justicar limped over to her steed, and rode off without another word.

The Didact huffed, and snapped his fingers at his temporary base. The wood creaked, slowly unfolding like an envelope. It rearranged itself, and contorted into a small tower of pine. He chuckled as he saw Lydia and Renay now laying on the ground, with their equipment by their sides. He shook them both awake, waiting expectedly with his fists on his hips.

"Rise, the both of you. We have two days worth of travelling to do, and it won't go any further with you two dithering about."

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**It'll get better, you'll see!**


	11. Commander and Green

**I bet you guys must hate me for the amount of time it takes for a new chapter. This one is pretty much half the length of the last chapter, so I apologize if it wasn't what you were hoping for. There's a good reason for this, I promise you that.**

**As always, read and review! I just can't tell how much your feedback means, I'm so glad you guys not only enjoy it, but would like other things to happen :v**

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_It's been five months. Five months of silence. I'm not sure how long I can bear it. I've lost everyone... everyone I've ever cared about. Sam, Kelly, Linda, Fred, home... her. Strangely enough, she was the most important to me. I was supposed to help her, and I failed. All that's left is armor, loyalty, and duty. I have to carry on, I know she wouldn't have wanted me to just drop everything. I have to find a way. There's always a way._

The vastness of space did nothing to calm John-117's addled mind, even when he tried to actually focus on just one of the twinkling lights. His usual cool collectiveness had withered into a silent self lament. He only ever removed his armor for the most important bodily functions, and rarely took the time to get to know the crew. He may have saved them, but they sure as hell weren't his family. His true compatriots were off in a never-never land, watching from an eternal void.

He knew there were still Covenant out there, and despite what he and Cortana had done, the newly revived Prometheans were also rising. It was all a matter of time, before the ever faithful covenant gathered their forces and struck. Not that they'd be unprepared, tensions between the UNSC and the scattered aliens had been on the edge, but never overboard.

The spartan was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Lasky walking up to the spot next to him. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. This was now a part of the captain's routine, stopping by and checking up on the chief. He knew exactly what the age supersoldier was going through. Lasky closed his eyes, reliving the moment he shared his last kiss with Chyler Silva.

She made it her dying wish that he never let go of what they had, and to find strength in it. To know that he'd fight for something far more valuable than just the survival of his own race. He had grown distant from forming any other bonds with any other service men and women since her funeral, yes, but he accomplished more than most had within their first few years of service.

He sighed. "Chief. It's been a while. Palmer's asked if you want to do some recon with her, get some air. We've picked up some activity on those Prometheans, but nothing from that 'Didact'. What do you say?" Lasky looked through the window with him, awaiting an answer.

John shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Slowly, he nodded. "I guess I've been letting myself rust for too long. I'll head down, sir." He turned to exit towards the elevator, but not before turning to Lasky. "Thank you, sir." He saluted, and the Captain returned it without missing a beat.

"You bet, spartan."

"Sorry Hoya, not this time." Commander Sarah Palmer paced down the walkway of the infinity's barracks. She'd been told by Roland that the Prometheans had been gathering in a clearing at the base of mountain. The only other useful intel they were given was that the Infinity's scanners were picking up a structure, which they predicted to be an outpost. Her job: get more intel. She wasn't about to go it alone, or with a large team, so she requested the Master Chief accompany her.

The Commander stepped into the armory arc, where several mechanical arms took their time in clicking all of her plating into the appropriate places. The last piece was carefully held in front of her face, her own helmet. She took it, and slapped it on.

Palmer turned her head to her subordinate. "You'll just have to sit this one out, kick around for a bit in the training deck. Tell the fire teams to sit tight."

Hoya stood straight and snapped off a crisp salute. "Aye-aye, commander." With that, he turned on his heel, and headed for the crew deck. A moment later, the commotion from the other active personnel started to die down. Palmer looked up from her tacpad, and saw him.

The Master Chief, clad in his pale green armor, strode down the walkway. He gave silent nods to those that attempted to make eye contact through his visor, and slowly everyone resumed their duties. The Spartan clanked to a halt when he reached her, and saluted her in greeting.

"Commander Palmer." He nodded.

"Chief, been a while." She paused for a moment before adding, "How are you holding up?"

The Chief shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Holding, ma'am."

Palmer beckoned for him to follow, and they soon headed into the hangar bay, and to a pelican. A young pilot, who was idly reading a few reports on the local air space, noticed the two and hastily fixed her ear length hair, and slapped on her helmet. She saluted as the two entered, and sighed in relief at them not noticing her overly-relaxed manner.

"That's good to hear. We're going on a little field trip, checking in on our friends on Requiem. Our gear's already packed and ready, so strap in."

"Aye, Commander. I got your back."

The Chief slid into one of the passenger seats, where a reinforced guard slid into place over him, in order to ensure a less turbulent descent. Spartan-117 crossed his arms in thought.

"Anything else we'll need to know?"

The Commander shook her head. "Only that it's going to be in the eighties, so I hope you brought sunscreen." She chuckled at that.

Coincidentally, the Chief opened the nearest cargo compartment, and pulled out a small purple bottle. "I always have some, just in case."

She only shook her head in amusement as she locked herself into her spot.

Sarah sat across from John, eyeing him curiously from inside her helmet. Before she could start, the pilot's comm rang in both of their ears. "We have the green light to go, Commander.", she said. "Dropping it in five... four... three... two..." With the last moment, a boom resounded in the hangar, and the pelican soared toward it's landing zone.

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	12. Special Pages

**Here's another chapter, enjoy. I'm also typing another side fic at the moment!**

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_This place is dull. All I see is racism, cruelty, and snow. A lot of snow. Where in the thirteen hells is the butcher? I was sure this dress that I... bartered from the local shop would surely help me in luring him. Perhaps I'm missing something? Well, he obviously lives here..._

It was easy getting in; finding a good spot to hide the caravan was the hard part. Adrasteia had to find a nearby cave in the hill across from the nord city, and she took only what was necessary: her nordic dress, gold, several lockpicks, her satchel, and her favorite, an ebony dagger.

The guards paid her no attention, save for a few comments on her pale skin. Luckily, the dress came with a veil, and in the blurry winter air, no one had noticed her golden eyes that analyzed and memorized every detail. The vampiress idly walked along the markets, where she made small talk with the vendors and other passerby.

Adrasteia turned to walk away, when she felt a nudge on her arm. She was met grinning face of an imperial, who looked to be in his forties. He grinned with a set of perfect white teeth as he introduced himself, "Hey there, name's Calixto Corrium. You don't seem to be around here, you are..." He chuckled, placing his hands on his hips.

Adrasteia formed an alias, easily done by the many different lives she had to conform to. She decided it would be Imperial, in hopes of gaining his favor. "Alena. Alena Meridius. A pleasure." She extended her hand as a courtesy.

Calixto happily kissed her engraved ring. "Definitely. I run a museum in honor of my late sister, perhaps you'd like to come with?" He shrugged innocently.

'Alena' arched an eyebrow, cautious, yet curious as well. Out of all the people in Windhelm, this single man was the one who seemed to pay the most attention to her. Why? She wasn't sure... but she intended to find out.

"I'd be delighted to see your shop. Lead the way." She offered her hand in kind, looping it through his. "How long has your sister been..."

Calixto quickly picked up her trailing thought as they walked past the CandleHearth tavern, "A year. Long enough to miss her."

Adrasteia feigned sympathy while rolling her eyes, "I'm so sorry-"

"No no, it's fine. She's in a better place." they continued in silence, when they reached the wooden door to the museum, he pulled out his keys and showed her in. All along the walls were shelves and desks brimming with unique items, but none captured Adrasteia's interest.

Calixto removed his coat, settling into a chair. "You're more than welcome to take a look around, but I'm sure that goes without saying."

"Thank you, I will. Wait a moment. What's this?" The vampiress pulled out a dusty black leather book, settling it on the table next to her.

"Oh that, that's my crazy uncle's book. He made it himself, said something about... what was it? Oh yeah, bringing back the dead or something crazy like that. Why?" The imperial raised a questioning brow at her.

"Oh, it's just that I've seen something like this before. It's been a while, may I look?" She looked over her shoulder at him, pursing her lips.

Calixto sighed. "Fine. Just... stay away from the last few sections. They're private." He looked to the ceremonial dagger he found in a crypt that now sat on the side table to his left.

Adrasteia flipped through, unsure of what it was that she was looking for. Then, she saw it. The spell required to raise the dead. Then she realized what the book was: the Necroptionary. Passed down through generations, any mage lucky enough to read the first few chapters could reform deathly graves into their own empire. That was all she needed.

She would rule the world with this knowledge. She would become a goddess to everyone. She laughed at that thought. What she didn't notice was the distance that Calixto was silently closing as he approached her. With an enraged cry, he smashed Adrasteia's face onto the hardwood, plunging the blade into her scandalously exposed back several times.

She barely had time to cry out it, and it was over in seconds. He was heaving with the grief at what he had done, but he did it for his deceased sister. If it meant holding her again, he was damn sure that he was going to take every perfect piece of every fine woman he could.

He turned to prepare his surgical saw, when he heard a groan, a sigh, and then a chuckle. He turned around, and dropped the dagger. The woman still had her back to him, and the wounds made by his blade were now faint scars. His eyes widened in horror at his realization.

She closed the book, and turned to face him. "Really? You could've done better than that... butcher. Don't worry. I'll find a nice, cozy little grave where you and your precious sister can rest. Oh, and this?" She casually patted the book. "I think I'll hold onto this. You won't be needing it anymore." She walked toward him, her high heeled feet clacking ominously along the floor.

Calixto was now panicking. He needed fire. Where... where? His bedroom! He sprinted to the stairwell that would lead up to the second floor, where he always kept a few emergency torches. She was fast upon him, however. He hadn't made it past the second step before he felt someone grab him by his ankles, and pulled him back into the common room.

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**Thanks for reading, be sure to review!**


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